


Mutts Like Me

by GloriaVictoria



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Dogs, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Pets, Post-Drift (Pacific Rim), Post-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018), Post-Operation Pitfall (Pacific Rim), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-21 23:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15568824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriaVictoria/pseuds/GloriaVictoria
Summary: After living together for a time, Newt tells Hermann he wants to adopt a dog. In typical Newton Geiszler fashion, he chooses the worst dog imaginable: slobbery, hairy, a complete mess of a creature that Hermann absolutely hates...until he doesn't.Spiritual sequel to "Boxes". A series of scenes involving Hermann and Newt's dog, Heinz. He's the worst dog. He's the best dog.





	Mutts Like Me

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from a quote by Barack Obama: "A lot of shelter dogs are just mutts like me."
> 
> Also this is a Christmas fic. Surprise, sue me.

“You want to get a dog?” Hermann asked incredulously as Newton shoved his laptop across the dining room table, the screen filled with images of dogs of all colors and breeds. They hadn't sat down for breakfast longer than five minutes when Newt brought up the topic; Hermann hadn't even sugared his coffee and his oatmeal still steamed. He sighed and rubbed his sleepy eyes. Newt had a knack for bringing up things of this nature at the most inconvenient times.

“Aww, come on, dude! Dogs are the frickin’ best!” Newt prodded, his mouth full of waffle.

“First of all, I prefer cats.” Newt dramatically slung himself back into his chair, rolling his eyes.

“Ugh, of _course_. Cats are so boring! All they do is climb on your shit and ruin your furniture and whine for food and attention.”

“As I recall, dogs do those same things.” Hermann shot back as he primly sipped his coffee.

“Come on, Hermann. Cats don't fetch. Cats don't play. Cats don't love you, they use you!”

“Absurd.” Hermann sniffed and took a bite of his oatmeal placidly, attempting to ignore Newton's pitiful whine. “Besides, you struggle to care for your own needs. How on Earth do you plan on tending to another creature?”

“Well, that's why it'll be _our_ dog.” Newton answered in a sugary voice.

“Of course. _Our_ dog.” Hermann sighed deeply and stirred his oatmeal. “I'll consider it.”

“For real?! Fuck yeah! I'm gonna go look some more, okay?”

“Newton, please. At least finish breakfast first.” Hermann settled back in his chair, trying to loosen the tight cords of muscle in his shoulders.

The truth of the matter was that Hermann struggled to refuse Newton much of anything since moving with him to Geneva. Newton's experience with the Precursors had left him vulnerable and in need of gentleness, and Hermann delivered as often as possible. Seeing Newton's face light up as they watched one of his abominable monster movies or took a walk together in the city park made all of the hard days worth it. Every nightmare Newt woke from screaming, every panic attack, every quiet tear shed, Hermann had tried to counter with something positive.

This time, however, Hermann worried that he could not oblige him.

Hermann did not enjoy animals, and never had. Even as a child, he'd disliked petting zoos and animal parks. Back then, he'd feared their unpredictability, worried that some horrid creature would leap out of their cage and attack him. It didn't help that Dietrich religiously followed television shows like Blue Planet, where he saw all manner of animals committing acts of violence on one another. He knew it was natural, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Even domestic animals like dogs and cats made him nervous. Karla had adopted several feral cats in kindergarten, luring them to their home with scraps of her lunch. Hermann had tried to pet one and found himself running to his mother with a bloody scratch down the length of his forearm. He still preferred them to dogs; his neighbors kept huge German Shepherds for years that leered at him from their yard, pacing back and forth in such a way as he knew they wanted a piece of him. Father had called him ridiculous and yet he'd never suggested a family pet to Hermann's memory, not even once. Hermann went to bed that night still chewing on this problem. As he sat on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt, he watched Newt in the bathroom, staring at himself and touching his own face. He did this from time to time; his stint at Shao Industries had changed him, and though he'd worked through the brunt of the trauma, Hermann knew that things still crept up on him.

“Hermann…” Newt called out from where he'd planted himself in front of the mirror. “Can I tell you something?”

“Newton, you can tell me anything.” He replied, tossing his shirt into the laundry hamper before yanking on an old t-shirt.

“You know why I want a dog?” Newton turned to face Hermann. “It's...because I wanna prove that I can take care of something. Make it happy. I feel fucking useless right now, Herms. I'm just a drag on you. I mean, what do I actually accomplish anymore? I dick around in the backyard, naming beetles and counting plant species and struggling not to jump at my own shadow. I'm tired of it. Maybe if I can take care of a dog, it'll prove that I can take care of myself.” Newt shoved his hands into the pockets of his worn grey sweatpants, uncomfortably shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Then maybe we can move on. You know?”

Hermann rose from the bed, snatching his cane back up and hobbling to Newton. “Do you realize that you _are_ my life, Newton? That I could care less about my damned career? I left that behind when I came here with you.” Hermann paused, carefully considering his words. “If adopting a dog would make you feel better, then adopt one we shall.” Newton's eyes brightened and Hermann felt his heart do a familiar backflip.

“For real?! Fuck yeah! We gotta go tomorrow.” Hermann smiled and watched as Newt tried to sell the merits of a dozen different breeds, only hushing when Hermann pressed his lips against his neck with a good-night kiss. “Eheheh…” Newton's cheeks lit up and he rolled over, returning Hermann's kiss with one of his own.

“How on Earth shall I manage _two_ pets?” Hermann teased, petting Newton's unruly hair.

“Well, at least one of them knows how to behave. Does tricks, too.” Newt grinned and disappeared beneath the covers, and Hermann tightened his grip.

* * *

 

The next day, they headed out to their nearest shelter; per the PPDC’s probationary conditions, Newton could not go more than 50 miles from their home, but luckily their proximity to Geneva meant they had no need to wander far. As they entered the shelter, Newt looked over at Hermann's stern expression, his pursed lips and narrowed eyes.

“Wow, dude. Don't get too excited, ok? No need to be so… “cagey”. Get it?” Newt elbowed him with a chuckle and Hermann scoffed.

“I told you, animals make me uncomfortable, and this place is full of them.” He huffed, eyeing a lorakeet chirping in its cage warily.

“ _Bonjour.”_ A young woman wearing an apron emblazoned with the shelter’s logo smiled and waved to them. “How can I help you, sirs?”

“Ah, yes.” Hermann straightened his jacket. “We would like to adopt a dog. May we peruse the selection?”

“Hermann, come on, it's not like buying a damn car. Yeah, we want a dog.” Newt grinned at the girl. “The scruffiest, slobberiest, most adorable one.”

The young woman laughed and placed her hands in the pockets if her apron. “Well, I'll take to you through the shelter and you see if any of our friends catch your eye.” She led them into the back, and Hermann sniffed.

“I do hope you were joking about adopting a mangy, drooling mess of a creature.” He grumbled quietly, shooting him a sideways glance. “I shall not be responsible for his oral secretions.”

“You're so extra, Hermann.” Newt snickered, reaching over and squeezing his hand. “Let's just see what they've got in here.” The pair made their way down a long hall, lined on either side with large cages furnished with comfortable beds and pillows, food and water dishes, and toys. Despite the pleasant accommodations, many of the animals seemed aloof, almost depressed. A few paced in their pens, and a couple moved closer to sniff the new arrivals.

“Do they live in there most of the time?” Hermann asked, feeling a tug at his heartstrings in spite of himself.

“We do our best to keep the dogs active and socialized. Unfortunately, we can't staff volunteers as often as they need, so yes, they stay here a decent portion of the day.” Newt scanned the cages purposefully; clearly he already had something in mind.

“Now, Newton, don't get ahead of yourself. We should put some careful thought into this--”

“Oh, _Hermann._ Ohhh, oh my god. Look at this guy!” Newt jerked away and ran down the hall, stopping to croon in front of a pen on the far end, his eyes wide and smile bordering on manic.

“Let me see.” Hermann conceded and headed after him, only to stop halfway once the dog came into view. He assumed the creature qualified as a dog, but Hermann felt it more closely resembled the business end of a filthy mop. “Absolutely not, Newton. My God. He's disgusting.”

“Uhhh, ex _cuse_ me? He’s perfect. Just--how can you hate him? Look at that face!” Hermann _did_ look at it. As the dog laid splayed out, rolling back and forth on the blanket for attention, Hermann noticed the wet fur around his face, the shaggy grey-brown fur, the huge mouth and paws. Hermann had hoped for a small breed, like a nice hound or a corgi, something intelligent like a terrier. This nasty beast, on the other hand…

“Oh, this is Heinz. We found him on the side of the road, had tags and everything. We think he lost his family somewhere in Geneva, and he wandered to us. He’s such a sweet boy, sir. I think you both would love him, and he’s been here for a long time. Would you like to pet him?” Newt leapt to his feet.

“Yes! Holy shit, please!” The young lady laughed and unlocked the cage, and Newt darted inside. Much to Newt’s surprise, however, Heinz rose to his feet and padded past him, walking out of the cage and sniffing Hermann’s feet. Heinz looked up at Hermann with round, watery eyes the color of a thundercloud, and Hermann sniffed in exaggerated distaste.

“He--he’s a slobbery fellow, Newton. Really, quite unsavory.” Newt grinned from ear to ear.

“Aww, look! He likes you!” Newt scratched behind Heinz’s ear and he leaned his head back, squinting his eyes shut in pleasure. “Come on, Hermann. He has a _German_ name! Maybe he knows German commands, too!” Hermann rolled his eyes.

“Just because his name is German doesn’t mean--” Heinz leaned forward and licked the palm of Hermann’s hand placidly, still staring up into his face with an intelligence that made Hermann mildly uncomfortable.

“ _Hermann,_ please, he’s perfect!” Newt gave Hermann the “look” he always gave when he really wanted something -- he widened his big green eyes and stuck out his lip just so in a way that made Hermann’s heart tighten in his chest.

“I -- well, I highly doubt we’d ever actually _agree_ on a pet, so…” Hermann looked to the young lady. “We’ll take Heinz, I suppose.” Newt pumped his fist in the air.

“Yess! Hear that Heinz? You’re the newest member of the Geiszler-Gottlieb family!” Newt spent the entire registration process on the floor with Heinz, rubbing his belly and speaking to him like a baby as Hermann filled out all the paperwork, paid his fees, and retrieved his things.

“Thank you, sir. I think you made your husband very happy.” Hermann looked behind him at Newton and Heinz, allowing a fond smile to curl his lips.

“Yes… I think I did. Thank you for your help.” With that, the three of them headed back to Hermann’s vehicle and drove home. When they arrived, Hermann looked back and saw Newt laying in the backseat with Heinz, both of them asleep, his arm draped over the dog. The two of them really did look like a pair -- both scruffy, lost, in need of love and reassurance. He gathered up Heinz’s things and carried them inside.

* * *

 

“You know, Heinz is a perfect name for this dog, Hermann.” Newt explained through a mouthful of linguine that evening, the living mop they called their dog laying on his feet. Heinz had chosen a clear favorite in Newton, which made sense given that he'd barely left the poor animal alone since they adopted him three days ago. Heinz snored gently beneath the table, and Hermann could feel the warmth of his body on his feet even on the other side.

“Why do you say that?” Hermann answered, taking a sip of his water.

“Heinz 57. You know, the ketchup. 57 ingredients.”

Hermann blinked slowly. “Because he's a--”

“Mutt, yeah! You get me.”

“Personally, I think Heinrich would serve him much better. It's more dignified.”

Newton snorted a laugh. “ _Heinrich?_ Oh my God, dude.”

“You don't agree?”

“I mean, if you want him to sound like he fetched a stick right up his ass. 'Dignified’? Hehe, more like ' _dog_ nified.” Newton laughed at his own joke, and Hermann sniffed.

“Well, he is _my_ dog as much as yours, and if I choose to call him Heinrich--”

“I reserve the right to make fun of you.” Hermann rolled his eyes, but didn't chide him further. Two weeks ago, Newton was having panic attacks in the grocery store and sobbing in his sleep. Seeing him back to his old antics comforted him, in a strange way.

“Why don't we take him on a walk around the neighborhood? Get him accustomed to his new surroundings?” Hermann asked.

“Eh, I guess. Alternatively we could take a nap.” Newt motioned down at the dog. “Look at him. He's exhausted.”

“He just got here.” Hermann arched an incredulous eyebrow. “His handler told me that Heinz requires a sizable amount of exercise--”

“Well, I don't.” Newt answered, a petulant frown on his face. Hermann placed his hand on Newton's.

“Walking your dog is not the same as a daily CrossFit routine, Newton.” Without a word, Newton rose and went upstairs, leaving Heinz and Hermann alone. The dog raised his head, blinking curious eyes and yawning himself. “Well, I suppose it's you and me then…Heinrich.” Hermann slid on his shoes, fetched his cane, and took Heinz's leash from its new hook beside the house key. Immediately, the dog hurried to the door, tail thumping the floor and mouth hanging open in what looked like a goofy grin. “Come on then.” Hermann snapped the lead to Heinz's collar and the two of them stepped out into the cool autumn morning.

The episode at breakfast worried Hermann. Newton had wanted to get this dog for himself, and yet the mere thought of taking a walk with his dog had put him in such a mood that he hadn't even finished his meal. How could they make such an arrangement work? On the one hand, Hermann didn't despise the dog -- he pulled Heinz away just before he decided to relieve himself on a neighbor's mailbox -- but on the other, he refused to take full responsibility for this animal. He didn't want to take Heinz back to the shelter, nor did he believe that Newt wanted that either. Hermann sighed as Heinz yanked on him, leading him to a small park on the end of their street.

Hermann realized to his dismay that only two months had passed since he and Newton had moved to Geneva together, and already he had begun to underestimate the longevity of his trauma. Within the walls of their home, Newton behaved very much the same as he always had -- perhaps _too_ much so, like a comedian exaggerating his lines to get a smile rather than to inspire any real meaning. Now, Hermann wondered how much he helped Newton at all. If he couldn't tell that Newt couldn't handle the extra responsibility of a dog, then how much did he really, truly understand about him? Perhaps he'd have been better off with professionals, people who could study him, engage with his struggles… _You mean treat him like a lab rat instead of a man,_ another voice inside his mind chided him. _Pull yourself together._

Before he could berate himself further, Hermann noticed the faint sounds of footsteps growing closer and closer, and to his surprise found Newton behind him, cheeks flushed with the chill and hands shoved into the pocket of an oversized sweatshirt.

“I...ran.” Newt muttered, chewing his bottom lip. “I thought maybe I could catch up, and we could…” Hermann smiled gently and led Heinz over to Newton, who wagged his tail happily and nudged his thigh with his wet nose. “Hey, Heinz.” Newton responded, his voice oddly scratchy.

“I'm glad you joined us, my dear.” Hermann leaned forward and kissed Newton's hair. As he did so, Heinz paced around the two of them, pulling them close and knocking Hermann off balance. Newt caught him around the waist before he could fall to the pavement. “Ack! What a nuisance…”

“Aww, but he's _our_ nuisance.” Newt grinned, his eyes rimmed with red. “Hey, you want me to walk him back?”

“Please, take him away from me.” Hermann sniffed, prompting a cackle from Newton that shattered the quiet autumn air.

“Oh my God, Hermann. You're such a grouch.” He teased, sliding his free hand into Hermann's as they made their way home.

* * *

 

Despite spending most of his time caring for Newton, Hermann had resumed his career, at least to some extent. After the end of his stint at the PPDC, Hermann began writing and reading again. It took very little time for universities to begin contacting him, asking him to make guest appearances at convocations and take visiting professorships. He refused the vast majority of these offers, but decided instead to teach an elective class for a small university in France, centering mainly on theoretical mathematics. The beauty of this class laid in the fact that he could teach it remotely -- most of the students had already chosen projects, and Hermann's role comprised mainly of reviewing these projects and providing feedback.

This proved much more difficult with a snout in his lap.

 _“Newton,_ please remove your dog _at once._ He's -- ack, he's drooling all over these drafts!”

“Aww, he just wants attention! Give him some love. He's just like his daddy.” He called back from the living room, where he'd been building a model 00 Evangelion for the past two hours.

“Oh, I agree entirely. Nothing brings him more pleasure than making things as inconvenient for me as possible.” Hermann bit his tongue, regretting that snide jab, but Newton fired back immediately, to his relief.

“That's not what you were saying last night!” Hermann felt his cheeks burn, but said nothing. He wasn't wrong.

Heinz nuzzled Hermann's hand and he rolled his eyes, patting his head with a half-hearted smile. “Yes, yes, you're a good boy.” Heinz sat down and sneezed, giving Hermann a look that he swore smacked of dissatisfaction. “Pardon me, but _you_ barged in on _my_ work. I have more than sufficiently accommodated you.”

Heinz blinked and laid down on the rug, staring up at Hermann with sad, watery eyes.

“Stop that immediately.” Hermann narrowed his eyes. “I know what you're trying to do.”

Heinz cocked his head to the side.

“Don't play the innocent here. You want me to shower you with affection at the cost of my productivity. I've lived and worked with Newton Geiszler for over a decade. I know how this works.”

Heinz sneezed and yawned, turning a circle on the rug before settling down again, closing his eyes.

“Hmph. Quite right.” Newton poked his head into the office, a bemused expression on his face.

“Hermann, what are you doing, dude?” He laughed as Hermann jumped with surprise. “Are you trying to have a conversation with the dog?”

Hermann scoffed and straightened his shirt.

“Nonsense. Dogs can't talk.” Heinz lifted his head and wagged his tail, as if confirming.

“Whatever, Herms.” Newt smirked as he went back to his model. “And here I thought you didn't like dogs.”

Despite the occasional spout of “Goddammit!” or “Fucking hell!”, Hermann didn't hear much more from Newt that day. Heinz spent his time alternating between the living room and Hermann’s study, sniffing the corners and nudging Hermann's hand for pets and licks. Before Hermann knew it, the sun had lowered itself in the sky, piercing through his curtains into his eyes and signaling the end of his productivity. It was nearly dinner time, in any case, and he needed to get the oven heated.

As Hermann rose, he realized that Newton had gone uncharacteristically quiet, and he felt a wave of fear wash over him. The last time hed lost track of Newt, he'd wandered all the way down to the edge of town, curled up on a bench and let the pouring rain soak him to the skin. Hermann rose carefully, minding his stiff leg as he hobbled to the living room. The Gundam sat, nearly finished, on the coffee table. On the couch, Newton laid shivering, muttering to himself about eyes and claws and the end of the world. Hermann had heard the same nightmare a dozen times, and each time he felt powerless to help him. Most nights he simply wrapped his arms around him and held him tight, but that rarely comforted him, so deep were the scars that the Precursors had left behind.

Before he could get closer, he felt something warm brush past his leg, and Heinz came into view. He sniffed Newton's leg, then his neck, then his face with his wet nose, and Hermann nearly stopped him, but Newt’s eyes had already opened, bleary with sleep and unshed tears.

“H-hey, buddy…” He croaked, and Heinz climbed onto the couch next to Newton, slotting himself into the slim space left beside him. He laid his shaggy head on Newton's chest and huffed softly, and Newton buried his face in his grey fur. “You're -- you're a good dog.” Tears flowed down Newton's cheeks as he pulled Heinz closer, falling back to sleep without so much as another whimper. Hermann watched all of this without making a sound, and felt a tear streak down his own face. He quickly swiped it away and fetched a throw blanket from his reading chair, laying it over Newton and the dog.

“He's not wrong, you horrid, ugly thing.” Hermann smiled and gently petted Heinz's ears before retreating to the kitchen, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

* * *

 

Heinz had clearly chosen Newton as his favorite. It didn't really surprise Hermann, nor did it make him upset -- after all, Newton lavished all of the affection, the treats, the slivers of cheese and bacon under the table. Hermann treated Heinz kindly, but reasonably so. He didn't want the dog nipping constantly at his heels, begging for scraps. As Heinz made a more permanent place in their home, however, Hermann felt a growing desire to connect with him in his own way. One afternoon, while Newton puttered around the backyard garden, Hermann looked over at Heinz laying resplendent in the sun on the rug, eyes rolled back in his sleep and leg twitching. He remembered what Newton said about teaching Heinz German commands, and while the idea embarrassed him to a degree, for some reason it irked him to see the dog just laying about.

“Heinz.” Hermann started, sitting his tea down as the dog stretched and yawned. “ _Hier.”_

Heinz tilted his head to one side and scratched behind his ear. Hermann sighed and repeated himself. _“Hier,_ Heinz.” He beckoned for Heinz with his hand, and the dog simply turned and bit his bottom.

Hermann crossed his arms, brow furrowed in a petulant frown. “Nonsense. I don't know why I'm even wasting my time with such a silly dog.” As Hermann turned back to his tea and book, Heinz padded close and sniffed Hermann's lap before licking his hand. “No, Heinz. _Nein._ ” Heinz pulled back, eyes wide as if offended by his refusal. “You're not a very attentive dog.”

Hermann scoffed, breaking off a piece of his teatime scone. Heinz stared up at the crumbly morsel hungrily, licking his chops, and Hermann chuckled. “You want this?” Hermann asked teasingly, as if Heinz knew what teasing sounded like. “ _Platz._ ” He motioned down with his hand flat, and Heinz laid down immediately. “Now _there's_ some initiative. Good boy.” Hermann fed Heinz the piece of scone, which he gobbled up gratefully. “No more, now. Well have to try again later.”

Newton pushed open the back door, covered in mud and loose leaves, just as Hermann wiped his fingers clean. “Hey, what's up? Did -- did you just feed Heinz out of your hand?”

Hermann sniffed and straightened his glasses. “I rewarded him for good listening skills.”

“You said you'd never feed him from your plate! You got a whole bag of treats specifically so you could avoid that!” Newton laughed, jostling mud onto the floor. "You big softie!"

“Get out, Geiszler! You're going to ruin my carpet!” Hermann yelled, shaking his cane in his direction. Newton acquiesced, still cackling like a maniac as he went, and as Heinz barked, Hermann _swore_ that slovenly little devil was laughing too. “Well, you won't be winning any contests, that goes without saying.” He grumbled, finishing his scone and ignoring the wet sound of Heinz's tongue lapping at the crumbs on the floor.

* * *

Hermann had Newton right where he wanted him: on his back, hands above his head, eyes shut and legs splayed open. They hadn't spent this kind of time together for nearly two weeks, and it had begun to grate on Hermann in a major way. It wasn't really anyone's fault. Between Newton's many end-of-the-month evaluations and check-ups, Hermann's grading and reviewing responsibilities, and working through Newton's night terrors, sex had dropped down the list of their priorities a considerable amount.

Today Newton had insisted. He'd crept up behind Hermann at his desk, running his hand along the back of his hair and pressing soft kisses to the sensitive spot behind his ear, and really that had been all the convincing necessary. He'd crafted a series of elaborate scenarios during their dry period that he now filtered through in his mind -- which would he make come true?

“Hah -- Hermann, come _onnn.”_ Newt whined, arching his hips against him to punctuate his impatience.

“How would you like for me to proceed then, Dr. Geiszler?” Hermann leaned down and murmured into his ear.

“Dude, just like -- fuck, you know what I like.”

“Shall I fetch the handcuffs then?” Hermann smirked, and Newt groaned.

“You fetch whatever the fuck you want, Hermann.” Cocking his head to the side, Hermann gripped Newton's hair and firmly pulled his head forward, kissing him hard.

“Then I think I should prefer to use my hands.” Newton visibly shivered as Hermann slid his long fingers beneath the hem of Newton's T-shirt, pushing the faded fabric up to reveal his brilliantly patterned chest. Hermann loved these tattoos now, almost as deeply as he'd loathed them many years ago. He made sure to lavish as much attention as he could on them, because for Hermann, they signified the qualities that made Newton the man he'd chosen to love. He teased his stomach, gently brushed his ribcage with his fingertips, licked at his--

“H-hermann…”

“Mm, do you like that, _Schatz?_ ” Hermann sighed against Newton's chest.

“No, Hermann... the dog…” Newton gasped as Hermann licked a trail up his stomach.

“What about the dog?” Hermann sighed, unzipping his trousers.

“He…” Newton dropped his voice down to a whisper. _“He's watching us.”_

Hermann froze and slowly turned his head toward the door. Heinz sat in the floor, ears perked up and tail wagging left and right.

“Oh...for God's sake.” Hermann flushed, embarrassed as if he'd been caught in the act by his mother, not his pet. “What -- what do you want me to do?”

“Huh? I dunno, I guess… it's fine?” Newton shrugged, leaning up and nipping Hermann's earlobe. “Don't worry about it.”

 _“Newton,_ why on Earth did you bring it up if you didn't want me to worry about it?!” Hermann looked back at Heinz. “Go, Heinz. Go to bed. Now, shoo!”

Heinz looked back at Hermann and sneezed.

“Heinz, come on, man…” Newton groaned. “Don't cockblock me, that's messed up.”  

“Heinz!” Hermann suddenly barked in an imperious tone. “Bed!” Heinz's ears flattened against his head and he hurried down the hall. “There. Now...where were we?” Hermann smirked and slid his hand between Newton's thighs, rubbing him through his jeans and relishing the lovely squeal he elicited.

“Right there, that's -- fuck, that's where we were, Herms.”

“Lovely. You have such a good memory…” Before Hermann could so much as unfasten the button of Newton’s jeans, they heard a long, loud whine from the door. “Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me.” Hermann turned and, as he'd feared, Heinz had returned after only a moment or two, his head hung and eyes lonely.

“Aww, look at him, Hermann. He's so sad.” Newt said, and Hermann grumbled to himself.

“Well, he's making _me_ very angry.”

“Aww, Heinz, buddy. Go on. Go to bed, Heinz!”

Another whine, this one louder.

“Man, this dog is stubborn.” Newt laughed nervously and scratched his hair. "Must be genetic."

“Ugh… Let's go take a shower, Newton.” Hermann huffed and stormed to the bathroom, pulling Newt along by the wrist as he snickered. After the door had shut, Heinz crept into the warm spot Newt had left, curled up and fell asleep.

* * *

 

On December 24, 2048, and a young girl sneaks out of her bedroom, her way lit by the soft glow of Christmas lights. She pushes her glasses up on her nose to further clarify her vision, carefully making her way down the staircase with bare feet. She can’t hear a thing from the room ahead of her, nothing but the occasional rustle of tree branches outside and the ticking of a clock. She scans the room, then realizes she has forgotten to check her parents’ room and whispers “Darn!” into the quiet. It’s too late to turn back now, so she removes her tiny pen flashlight from the pocket of her pajama top and moves on into the den.

As she moves forward, she doesn't bother to check the plate and letter on the coffee table. She knows Santa ate her cookies, because she and Papa make sure they're delicious every year. Somehow, Papa knew Santa's favorite recipe. Beyond, she sees her prize: a stack of gifts beneath a Christmas tree dangling with all sorts of ornaments, some of them homemade keepsakes that she’d made earlier that year, some store-bought. Her father had placed each of the ornaments exactly according to weight, so that none of them fell off and shattered on the hardwood floor. Papa did things in his own particular way, something that made him very easy to trick. Her lips curled into a victorious smile as she makes her way to the presents, shining the light over them. Many of them had her name on it, and she pumped her fist. Yes! Santa knew a good girl when she saw one.

Before she can reach down to shake the presents, she hears a loud snore and jumps, nearly dropping her flashlight on the floor. She covers her mouth to muffle a sharp gasp and sees Heinz behind her on the rug, his feet twitching as he grunts in his sleep.

“Heinz! Oop--” She whispers to herself, then pans up from Heinz’s place on the floor to find both her parents asleep on the couch. Daddy had laid his head on Papa's lap, one arm curled around himself and the other dangling over the edge of the cushion, fingers nearly brushing the floor. Papa still had an open book in his hand, and he had fallen asleep with his chin resting on his chest. She’d almost given herself away! Her heart races a hundred miles a minute, but before she can race back upstairs, Heinz approaches her, licks her hand, and plops down on the floor around her feet. “Heinz, come onn…”

Heinz doesn’t budge.

“You listen as well as Daddy.” She sharply whispers, then yawns and rubs her eyes. She looks at her watch, the same watch that Daddy had worn in college: 2:45 AM. She still hadn’t managed to look at a single present, and she already felt so tired! Heinz nudged her foot with his cold nose. “Heinz, I can’t give up now…” She says, already seating herself on the floor. Papa and Daddy hadn’t budged at all; they both slept pretty deeply, and she figured if she hurried, she could take a quick peek.

Before she could make up her mind, another huge yawn overtook her, and she laid her head on Heinz’s warm back. Perhaps she’d just close her eyes for a moment…

“Don’t tell on me, Heinz.” She mumbled into his fur. Heinz simply snuffled and closed his eyes again.

As the sun rose on the two of them, hours later, she finds Heinz still asleep underneath her, a blanket draped over them both. She hears the characteristic shuffling of her father’s slippered feet in the kitchen, the muffled blaring of rock music competing with the shower and Daddy’s shrieking in the bathroom. She smiles and nuzzled Heinz, who responded with a long groan.

“Merry Christmas, Heinzie.”

 


End file.
